


pictures of you

by questionableatbest



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: but they're not a hockey team they all work for the same newspaper
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-12
Updated: 2017-05-15
Packaged: 2018-10-31 02:31:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,504
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10889835
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/questionableatbest/pseuds/questionableatbest
Summary: jack is a photographer for a local newspaper and eric bittle is a professional figure skater. they meet when jack is asked to cover a competition, and they fall in love pretty soon after that





	1. figure skating and photography

**Author's Note:**

> ** previously called pictures of you
> 
> i know nothing about newspapers or figure skating so please use your imagination

Jack was sitting at his desk off to the side of the open concept office that he secretly hated, scrolling through the pictures he’d just uploaded. They looked good. He already had a general idea of which ones he wanted to send to the writers he was working with, and none of them really required much editing, and he was pretty sure that he’d get home at a reasonable time tonight, which was a rare feat for him and his co-workers at the Samwell Press.

Really, Jack didn’t mind the late hours. He didn’t have much to go home to other than an empty apartment and a fridge that he really needed to clean out, and work kept him busy. It kept him moving and it kept him motivated, and the fact that all of his friends worked in the same place didn’t really hurt either.

Still, getting off on time would be nice for once. There was a new smoothie place across the street that he wanted to try, and he’d been meaning to sweep and mop his floors for a while now, and there were about a million new shows on Netflix that he’d been meaning to start and, if he got the chance, he could definitely do that tonight. Altogether, his plans for the evening weren’t groundbreakingly exciting, but they were nice and relaxing and still productive enough for Jack to not feel guilty about enjoying himself, and he was in the middle of coming to terms with them, when Shitty came out of nowhere and sat on Jack’s desk.

Years ago that would have been enough to startle Jack, but he’d long since become used to Shitty, abrupt entrances and lack of regard for personal space included, and, as it was, Jack just leaned back in his chair and raised an eyebrow. Shitty looked like he wanted something, and Jack wasn’t going to encourage him.

As expected, Shitty smiled and said, “Jack, my man, my buddy, my bro,” and he grabbed a pen from Jack’s desk and pointed it at Jack, as he continued with, “I’ve got an assignment that only you can do.”

Jack was wary. “Do you?” he asked, thinking back to the last time Shitty had come to him with ‘an assignment that only he could do’, and subsequently flashed back to the entire weekend the two of them had spent wandering around a petting zoo, looking for signs of animal abuse.

In the end they’d found some pretty appalling things and their piece had actually been pretty fantastic, but that was beside the point.

The point was, was that Shitty’s idea of special assignments had always been a bit out there and, when Shitty just hummed in affirmation before he asked, “What do you think about sports?” Jack was hesitant.

He wanted to say that he wasn’t the papers sports photographer so he generally didn’t think about sports at all, and he wanted to say that he’d spent the past 8 years aggressively trying not to think about one sport in particular, and he wanted to say a flat out no without asking any more questions because he knew that Shitty would accept that easily but, in the end, he asked, “What sports?” and prayed to every god in the world that Shitty didn’t say hockey.

Because of that, when Shitty said, “Figure skating,” relief washed over Jack.

“I can do that,” he said before he could think any better of it, and Shitty’s eyebrows shot up.

“You can do that, as in you have a secret professional figure skating career that I don’t know about but you’re now about to tell me all about it and show me videos of you performing in tight pants and sparkly shirts, or you can do that, as in you’re willing to take pictures of a world class figure skating competition going on at the university this weekend?”

Jack smiled despite himself. “The second one,” he said, and then he pursed his lips and said, “Sorry to disappoint,” and Shitty waved him off.

“Bro, you could never disappoint me,” he said, and then he glanced at Jack’s computer and said, “Speaking of which, mind if I see what you’ve got for tomorrow’s issue? Rans got some great shots for Holtzy’s piece on the Falconers and we’re trying to figure out how everything’ll come together.”

Jack glanced back to his computer and said, “Sure,” to that, and then he rolled his chair a bit closer to his computer and the two of them got to work and Jack thought, not for the first time, that he really did love his job.

He wasn’t a professional hockey player and he wasn’t in the spotlight like he'd been growing up, but he was happy and most days he was able to remember that. Most days, that was enough.

 

//

 

After work that night, Jack got his smoothie and he swept and mopped his floors, and when he was done that he scrubbed his kitchen counters too, because he had the time and the energy to do it, and those were both rare occurrences.

After his mini-cleaning spree, Jack fully intended on crawling into bed and getting started on Stranger Things, when his phone buzzed in his pocket and he pulled it out to see an email from Shitty. He opened it even though he knew that nobody expected him to work while he was at home, and when he realized what it was, he bit his lip.

There was a PDF file attached to the email that included Jack’s invitation to the figure skating competition, and in the message itself, Shitty had detailed what exactly the assignment entailed. In particular, Jack was going to be responsible for taking pictures of a local skater named Eric Bittle, who had multiple world championship under his belt and likely had multiple more in his future, while Nursey would be responsible for interviewing Bittle.

Nursey’s presence, at least, was a relief.

Derek Nurse was an English major straight out of journalism school, who had a distinct talent for putting people at ease, making them comfortable enough to get decent content out of them, and then writing articles that made everybody happy. Working with him meant that Jack probably wasn’t going to have to talk to Bittle at all, and it put him at ease a tiny bit.

Of course, that piece of information was the only thing in the email that put Jack at ease, because he didn’t actually know anything about figure skating, and he hadn’t taken pictures for sporting events in years.

With that in mind, Jack gave up on Netflix entirely, and typed the name, ‘Eric Bittle,’ into the google search bar.

Right off the bat, videos of performances showed up, and a few newspaper articles did as well. Jack choose to keep scrolling rather than clicking on any of them, and he only stopped and quickly scrolled back to the top of the search when he came across a link to a fanfiction page, featuring stories about Bittle and a few other names that Jack didn’t recognize.

Years ago, when he’d still been a relatively public figure, Jack had made the mistake of googling himself and reading the subsequent fanfiction that had appeared, and he wasn’t going to make that mistake again, especially if he wanted to be able to look Bittle in the eye.

When he got to the top of the page, Jack clicked a performance video at random, and then the sound of a screaming audience filtered out of his speakers, while a blonde man skated to the center of the ice, with nothing but grace and power in his strides. Bittle stopped when he got to the center, posing until the audience calmed down and the music started, and then he came to life on the screen.

Jack watched, a little bit mesmerized, as Bittle skated and jumped and twirled seamlessly, making everything he did look easy and natural and flawless, even as the music got faster and the moves got more intense, and the entire world seemed to hold its breathe.

When the routine ended, the audience erupted into applause, and Jack clicked on another video without a second thought.

 

//

 

Jack wasn’t surprised to find that watching a figure skating competition in person was a lot different than watching compilations of figure skating routines online, and he wasn’t happy about it either.

He and Nursey arrived at the arena at 9 o’clock on Saturday morning, with sleep in their eyes, coffee in their hands, and press passes around their necks, only to find that the competition was already running behind schedule. When they got their hands on a program, they also realized that Bittle wasn’t actually performing until well after noon, and things went downhill from there.

The press section was crowded, the arena was noisy, and watching the performances was actually kind of relaxing, but watching the judges do their work and read out scores was enough to wreak havoc on Jack’s nerves.

For a while, Jack practiced taking pictures of the skaters, and it took a few routines for him to get the hang of it but eventually the results started looking decent. The shots started looking more focused and the skaters stopped looking blurry and he got better at anticipating their moves and, as such, getting pictures of them mid-air or spiral or whatever else they did got easier, and it helped calm him down.

It helped, but it didn’t work entirely and, eventually, Jack realized that he needed a break.

When that happened, he left his camera with Nursey and excused himself with the intention of finding a washroom. However, the hallway was just as crowded as the actual rink had been, with vendors selling things and kids running around and parents looking through programs and, in the end, Jack just turned away from it all and walked straight outside.

The sun felt warm on his face and it was a nice contrast to the brisk air of the arena, and the soft hum of wind and car engines was a nice contrast to the screaming fans and booming announcer and the sharp sounds of skates on ice in the arena, and Jack felt like he could breathe again. His skin stopped crawling and his shoulders felt lighter, and he decided to walk around the arena before he headed back inside.

As he walked, he let his fingers trail along the wall of the arena, and when he squinted he could almost see the children’s soccer game taking place in a field across the street, and he ended up so focused on that, that he didn’t register the muffled sound of music blaring out of headphones, until he rounded the corner and came face to face with a man in the middle of a dance routine, at which point both of them froze.

It took Jack a moment too long to realize that the man in question was Eric Bittle, and that Bittle’s face was turning bright red, and that he’d probably been practicing his skating routine and not a dance routine and, by that point in time, Jack had been staring for too long to just turn around and leave, and Bittle was raising an eyebrow and taking his headphones off.

“Can I help you with something?” Bittle asked, with a distinctly Southern accent that caught Jack off guard. He was also standing with his shoulders squared and he managed to look tall despite being at least a head shorter than Jack, and Jack swallowed down a lump in his throat.

“I was just- walking,” Jack said, quick and abrupt, and Bittle looked him up and down, almost appraisingly.

“I can see that,” he said, not unkindly, but then his lingered on the press pass around Jack’s neck, and Jack swallowed again.

“I- my camera’s inside, so- I’m not- you know,” he said, hating how unsure he sounded and cursing his jumbled words, and he was surprised when a slight smile crossed Bittle’s face.

“I can see that too,” he said, and then he held out a hand that Jack just stared at and said, “I’m Eric.”

Jack blinked, and then he took the hand and shook it, and then he said, “I’m Jack,” and then he cleared his throat and tried not to think of how warm Eric’s hand had been and said, “And uh- I know who you are. My paper’s doing a story on you. Or- well- it’s not my paper, obviously, I just work there, but- you know.”

Eric kept smiling and said, “I know,” and then he crossed his arms and leaned against the wall and asked, “Who are you with?” and Jack tried his best to focus on the question, and not on the fact that Eric Bittle was quite possibly the most beautiful person he’d ever met.

He succeeded, but just barely. “The Samwell Press,” he said, and when Eric raised an eyebrow, he added, “We’re uh- just the local paper so it’s not a big deal or anything but, uh- yeah. I don’t normally do sports, but Rans is covering the Falconers game tonight and Lardo’s got an art show to prepare for and Dex- actually, I don’t really know why Dex and Chowder aren’t here but- yeah.”

Eric was still smiling, and Jack was pretty sure that his smile was warmer than the sun. “I know what the Samwell Press is,” he said, with a laugh in his voice, “I read it on the bus every day. I was just wondering why I hadn’t seen your face in the press seats before because, trust me when I say, it is _not_ face that I’d forget,” and his eyes went wide a moment later, as if he was just realizing what he’d said, and Jack choked on a laugh.

It was far from the first time somebody had flirted with Jack on a job, but it was one of the first times Jack was actually interested in flirting back. Unfortunately, before Jack could actually say anything, an alarm went off on Eric’s phone, and Eric jumped about a foot in the air.

“Oh, cr- f- _shoot_ ,” he settled on, warming Jack's heart with the attempt not to swear, and turning the alarm off before he glanced back up at Jack, almost sheepishly. “I’ve gotta run, but I’ll see you ‘round, alright?”

Jack nodded and he barely got out an, “Alright,” before Eric beamed at him- because really, that was the only way to describe his smile- and then opened a back door and disappeared through it, leaving Jack alone to process whatever had just happened.

 

//

 

When Jack got back to his seat, Nursey took one look at him and furrowed his brow.

“You good, bro?” he asked, and Jack didn’t quite know what to say. He liked Nursey and he trusted him and they were definitely friends, but somehow, ‘ _I accidentally fell in love with a professional figure skater behind the building,’_ didn’t seem like the right answer so, in the end, he shrugged.

“Crowds, you know?” he said, and Nursey hummed and nodded.

“It’s a lot,” he said, flashing Jack his notebook to show a page full of doodles before he added, “Distractions help.”

Jack smiled at that, and then glanced at his program. “Bittle should be up soon,” he said, easing his own nerves and hopefully helping with Nursey’s too, and Nursey glanced back at his notebook.

“Want to play hangman until then?” he asked, and Jack was more than grateful for the distraction.

In the next hour, the phrases, _‘raisin bran cereal,’ ‘Michelle Obama,’ ‘osteoporosis,’ ‘William J. Poindexter is an actual robot,’_ and many more were spelt, and the game only actually came to the end when Eric Bittle’s name was called over the speakers, and Jack scrambled to get his camera ready while Nursey flipped to a clean page.

By the time Eric skated onto the ice, Jack was ready. His camera was pointed at the entrance Bittle was supposed to come through, his mind was clear and sharp, and his finger was on the shutter. He took a few pictures of Bittle at the entrance, and a few more of Bittle skating to the center of the ice, and by the time Bittle’s routine actually started, Jack knew he already had several pictures that they could use.

Still, he kept his camera focused on Bittle and he kept taking pictures and he marveled at the fact that, even through a lens, Eric Bittle looked nothing short of magnificent.

He was wearing tight black pants and a navy shirt that shined when the light hit it, and he moved like he could fly, and his expression was focused and peaceful at the same time, and it reminded Jack of how he used to feel playing hockey. It reminded Jack of how he now felt taking pictures, and Jack wasn’t sure if a camera would ever be able to do that expression justice, but he kept trying anyways, because not documenting Eric Bittle would be a shame in and of itself.

Altogether, the routine was over far sooner than Jack wanted it to be and, while the audience erupted around them, Jack kept his camera to his face and his hand on the shutter, even as Eric looked directly at him and waved.

 

//

 

Once the competition came to an end, Jack and Nursey used their press passes to get part of the arena that had been blocked off for skaters only, and they set to work finding Eric Bittle.

In the end, they didn’t have to look for long. They found Eric standing in the middle of a circle of reporters, with his medal still hanging around his neck and a media smile on his face that brightened a tiny bit when he caught sight of Jack.

Of course, Jack didn’t notice that, and him and Nursey just had to glance at each other before they agreed to hang around the back of the pack until the other reporters cleared away, though Eric seemed to have other plans, because one minute he was in the middle of the pack, and the next he was pushing through it saying, “Oh, excuse me- pardon me,” and then he was standing in front of Jack and asking, “Any chance y’all want a private interview for that story?” and Jack blinked.

He blinked and he tried to figure out what, exactly, was going on, and he was infinitely grateful when Nursey came to his senses first, and said, “Yes. Definitely,” and then he stuck out a hand and said, “I’m Nursey- or, well, it’s actually Derek Nurse, but stick with Nursey and we’ll be cool,” and Eric smiled.

He shook Nursey’s hand and when Nursey introduced Jack, Eric just said, “I know,” and, while Nursey’s eyebrows shot up, Eric said, “Now come on, let’s go somewhere we can actually talk,” and then he waved for them to follow and he headed down the hall.

The further they walked the quieter things got, until they finally rounded a corner and came to an empty hallway, where Eric stopped. “This should do,” he said, and then he glanced from Jack to Nursey and back again, before he leaned against the wall and slid down it, saying, “And if you’ll excuse me, my legs need just a bit of a break,” as he sat down and fell into a stretch.

Jack elected to ignore how flexible Eric was, though it was impossible to ignore the way his legs were shaking slightly, and he winced in sympathy. Even just skating for a hockey game was exhausting, and Jack couldn’t imagine the toll that figure skating took on people’s muscles so, when Nursey said, “Not a problem,” and then sat down as well, Jack followed suit.

He crossed his legs and placed his camera in his lap, and Eric smiled.

“So, what can I tell you?” he asked, and he was mostly looking at Jack, even as Jack faltered and glanced at Nursey, who thankfully took over entirely.

“First of all, do you mind if I record this?” he asked, and when Eric shook his head, he pulled out his phone and set that up, and then he said, “Alright, Eric, how do you think you did today?” and Eric’s smile stayed on his face, but it turned a tiny bit flatter.

He sighed a bit before he said, “Well, winning’s always nice,” and Jack noted a hint of disappointment there that he didn’t bring up. Instead, he let Eric go on with a response that sounded more than a little bit rehearsed, and he let Nursey slowly unravel that as the interview went on.

He watched the Nursey and Eric grow comfortable around each other and he watched them laugh and joke around and he ignored the slight pang of jealousy that he felt in the pit of his stomach when he thought about good Nursey was with people in comparison to how bad Jack was, and every time Eric glanced at him and smiled, Jack felt fireworks go off in his chest.

He didn’t actually realize the interview was over until Nursey was shaking Eric’s hand again and saying, “Thank you so much for this,” at which point Jack blinked and tried to pull himself out of whatever trance he’d been in.

Jack shook Eric’s hand as well, and it was then that Eric said, “It was my pleasure,” and then he bit his lip and his gaze lingered on Jack for a moment before he said, “And uh- maybe I could give one of y’all my number, in case you need anything else?” and Jack felt his brain short-circuit.

His eyes widened and he opened his mouth to say something but nothing came out so he glanced to Nursey, and Nursey looked like he was trying not to die of equal parts happiness and amusement when he said, “My phone’s almost out of batteries after that interview, but Jack’ll definitely take it,” so that’s what Jack did.

He said, “Uh- yeah, sure,” and he handed Eric his phone with shaking hands, and he felt his face heat up as he watched Eric put his number in and hand it back. When that happened, Jack also said, “Um- thanks,” and Eric smiled.

He smiled and he said, “Just let me know if you need anything at all, hon,” and then he pulled his legs into his chest and winced as he moved to stand, saying, “Now if you’ll excuse me, I might die without an ice bath,” and then he smiled and waved once more, before he walked away, once again leaving Jack to figure out what, exactly had happened.

Of course, this time Jack had Nursey sitting beside him, and the second Eric was out of sight, Nursey looked at Jack and said, “Dude, he wants to bone you,” and Jack opened and closed his mouth, before he fixed his most unimpressed gaze on Nursey.

“You sound like Shitty,” he said, finally finding his voice and speaking with the confidence he’d previously been missing, and Nursey just shrugged.

“Shitty is wise beyond his years,” he said, solemnly, before he furrowed his brow and said, “Or, he thinks he is,” and Jack snorted.

He snorted and he smiled when he thought about the new number sitting in his phone, and he was glad when Nursey didn’t bring it up again. Instead, they got up and headed for Jack’s car, talking over the logistics or their article as they went, and altogether the day ended up being nowhere near as terrible as Jack had feared.


	2. coffee

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> pictures and coffee

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> one day i'm going to edit my work before i post it, but today isn't that day
> 
> also like, this chapter is 100% zimbits but it also features my huge and unstoppable love of nursey and i apologize for nothing

When Jack walked into work on Monday morning, the office fell silent. The fact that everybody was standing around Nursey’s desk told Jack exactly what they were talking about, but for a moment he panicked anyways. For a moment, it reminded Jack of a few years ago, when he’d first started working for the Samwell Press and he’d come in one morning to find everybody huddled around a computer, staring at a picture of him, Kent, and the Memorial Cup.

Of course, this was completely different.

Or, at least, it was different enough that Jack was able to keep his head clear and his breathing even, as he narrowed his eyes at the group of them and headed straight for his desk. It was Monday morning and he really didn’t want to deal with what he knew they were talking about, so he just wasn’t going to.

Instead, he turned his computer on and scrolled through his emails and went to grab coffee from the break room, and it was only when he turned around to head back to his desk, that he found Lardo leaning against the door frame, studying him with an even look on her face.

Her presence startled him, but he calmed down when he realized who it was, and he offered her a tiny smile when he greeted her with a quick, “Hey.”

Lardo smiled back, but hers was laced a tiny bit of with sympathy. She said, “Hey,” and narrowed her eyes for a moment before she asked, “You okay?” and Jack shrugged.

He shrugged and he studied his coffee for a moment before he said, “Normally when people are talking about me like that it’s about my overdose, so. It caught me off guard, is all,” and Lardo nodded.

“If it helps, we were literally just listening to Nursey recount the story of how you and a pro figure skater spent a twenty minute interview eye-fucking, so. Definitely not overdose related,” she said frankly, and when Jack snorted, Lardo smiled before she went on with, “And for the record, Shitty, Chowder and Ransom think you should text him today to let him know that the article ran and see what happens from there, Dex and Nursey both think you should just text him and ask him out, and Holster thinks you should send him a dick pic.”

Jack snorted but tried not to show any other signs of amusement, because his friends really didn’t need any more encouragement. Still, it was nice to know they cared and he knew that they’d leave him alone if that’s what he really wanted so, in the end, he just said, “I’ll keep that in mind,” and Lardo hummed an ‘mhm,’ and they headed back to work.

He didn’t have any new projects and he was caught up on all of his old ones, so Jack spent most of his morning sorting through files on his computer, deleting pictures that weren’t worth saving and saving others that he liked and, of course, it was only when he got around to opening the pictures of Eric, that Shitty just happened to stop by his desk.

And, of course, Shitty stopping by Jack’s desk meant that he casually draped himself across the back of Jack’s chair, dropping his chin onto Jack’s shoulder as he said, “Bro, those pictures really are fantastic. We’ve gotta get you doing sports more often,” which was something that Jack had actually been thinking about as well.

“Maybe not hockey, but I wouldn’t mind soccer or baseball. Things that are outside would be nice,” he said, as he kept scrolling, even with Shitty all but on top of him, taking comfort in Shitty’s presence despite how strange it must have looked to anybody who didn’t know them. Really, Jack didn’t like crowds and he wasn’t a fan of strangers and he was a huge advocate for personal space, but his friends were all exceptions to that, Shitty included.

For his part, Shitty smiled and pushed off of Jack’s shoulders, spinning around to lean against Jack’s desk before he said, “I’ll make a note of it,” and then his smile turned sly and he asked, “Any chance you’ll want to do figure skating again?” and Jack stopped scrolling and looked at Shitty pointedly. Of course, Shitty had never taken a hint in his life, and he just kept going with, “Or, you know, any figure skaters in particular that you might be interested in?” and Jack groaned.

“Really, Shits?” he asked, even though he’d been expecting this all morning, and Shitty grinned.

“Really, bro,” he said, bumping his knee against Jack’s before he said, “Like obviously don’t do anything you don’t want to do and all that, but also remember that you deserve to be happy, and that if dating really, really hot figure skaters makes you happy, then you should date really, really hot figure skaters,” and Jack had to purse his lips to keep from smiling.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” he said, once he got his expression under control, and then he glanced around towards where Lardo was standing, talking to Chowder, before he added, “And you know, you also deserve to be happy, and if dating really, really hot photo editors makes you happy, then you should date really, really hot photo editors,” and Shitty’s expression went from being surprised to embarrassed to impressed in half a second, before he shook his head slowly and stood up.

He clapped a hand over Jack’s shoulder and said, “The student becomes the master,” with a bit too much pride in his voice, before he sighed dramatically and walked away.

Jack let himself smile once Shitty walked away, and then he turned back to his computer. By the end of the day, he’d had similar conversations with Chowder, Holster, Ransom and Dex, and as he was walking out, Nursey got on the elevator with him.

As soon as the doors closed, Nursey turned to face Jack and he said, “Hey, so like, I know you don’t like attention and stuff, so I just wanted to say I’m sorry about everything today, because literally nobody we work with has any chill, and I probably shouldn’t have told them anything to begin with and I didn’t actually mean to- like I was literally just telling Rans how it went and then Holster heard me mention Bittle’s number and- it just kind of went downhill from there but like, gossiping isn’t cool and, yeah. I’m- sorry,” and Jack was shaking his head before Nursey was even done talking, and he also couldn’t help but smile a little bit.

Despite how chill Nursey always insisted on being, he was also kind and understanding, and Jack hadn’t even considered being mad at him.

“Nurse, it’s fine,” he said, and when Nursey didn’t look convinced he added, “It wasn’t a big deal,” and then he tightened his grip on his phone in his pocket and he glanced at his feet before he looked back at Nursey and asked, a bit sheepishly, “And, uh, did you actually think Bittle seemed interested in me?”

Nursey went from looking guilty to exasperated in half a second flat, and Jack didn’t know what to make of that. Of course, things cleared up a bit when Nursey said, “Dude. Yes,” and then he furrowed his brow and said, “He gave you his number. He was flirting the entire time. I was half expecting a marriage proposal by the time we left.”

Jack blushed, but he also smiled. “Oh,” he said, and Nursey rolled his eyes.

“Oh,” he said back, a bit exaggerated, and by that point they were at Nursey’s car, so he also said, “I’ll see you tomorrow,” and Jack repeated the sentiment, before he headed for his own car and pulled out his phone.

It took him a few minutes but, in the end, Jack went with Shitty, Chowder, and Ransom’s suggestion, and typed out the words, _‘Hey, we ran the article in the paper today, so you should check it out!’_ before he pressed send, and then immediately started cursing himself. He quickly typed, _‘This is Jack, by the way,’_ and sent that too, before he realized that there was a solid chance that Eric didn’t remember his name and added, _‘The photographer from the Samwell Press?’_ and then he looked at the three texts, and just about died from embarrassment.

He also turned his phone off and threw it in his back seat, just for good measure, and then he drove home and tried to forget about the whole thing.

 

//

 

When Jack finally worked up the courage to turn his phone back on, hours later as he was getting ready for bed, he was more than a little bit surprised to see that Eric had replied almost as soon as Jack had texted him, which had been hours ago. That surprise turned into guilt when Jack thought about how nervous he got when people waited hours before replying to him, and then it turned into nervousness when he actually read Eric’s messages and realized that he was going to have to reply to them.

Eric had started off with, _‘I saw it!!’_ and then he’d said, ‘ _It was great!’_ and then, _‘And very hard to miss- your picture took up the entire cover!!’_ and then he’d said, _‘And of course I remember you, Mr. Zimmermann,’_ and Jack had just about died at that, because he hadn’t told Eric his last name so, if Eric knew it, then it meant that he really had seen the paper, and he’d looked close enough to find Jack’s name.

It made Jack’s entire body warm up, and he was glad that he was alone because he knew he was smiling way too much, and he knew he was reading too much into it, like he always did.

In the end, Jack told himself to calm down and stay cool, as he replied with, _‘Haha I’m glad you like it,’_ and then, before he could think better of it, he typed and sent, _‘I can email you some of the other pictures, if you want?’_ and then he went to check Facebook as a distraction, but a response from Bitty pulled him away from it before the app had a chance to load.

The response read, _‘I didn’t like it, Jack, I loved it,’_ and then another message came in that read, _‘And I would love to see more!!’_ and then there was a third that read, _‘I found some of your other work online and you’re really talented!’_ and Jack panicked for half a second, because when people searched him online they normally came back with stories about hockey, but Eric didn’t say anything.

After a minute went by, Jack realized that it was his turn to reply, and he smiled as he did so. He just said, _‘I’ll email you them tomorrow,’_ and then, biting his lip and typing out, _‘And I watched some of your skating online and you’re also really talented!’_ before he could actually think about what he was saying.

Because of that, the minute and a half he had to wait for Eric’s reply were excruciating, but then it came in the form of three blushing smiley face emoji’s that Jack related to on a spiritual level and then a, ‘ _You’re too sweet,’_ and Jack was back to smiling.

He replied with, _‘Haha thanks,’_ and then he looked at the time and tacked on a quick, _‘Good night,’_ just for good measure, and he smiled when Eric replied with the same.

 

//

 

Jack had already gone through his pictures of Eric twice but, the next morning, he found himself sorting through them for a third time, before he settled on the ones he wanted to share. There were a few of Eric at the start of his routine, looking focused and ready and undefeatable, and there were a few of him in the middle of his routine, mid-air, looking like gravity was a myth he’d chosen not to believe in, and then there was Jack’s personal favourite.

It was a picture of Eric at the end of his routine, with his face flushed and his forehead glistening with sweat, looking up from a bow with a genuine smile on his face and the spotlights hitting his eye in just the right way to make them look like they were sparkling. Realistically, the picture was technically flawed in at least 3 ways that Jack could count and anybody probably could have taken it, but something about it still warmed his heart, and he thought that maybe Eric would like it anyways.

Of course, when he actually went to send the pictures to Eric, he realized that he had no idea what Eric’s email address was, and he mentally cursed himself for not asking the night before. Still, he didn’t let himself dwell on the mistake, because the solution was easy; he pulled out his phone and texted Eric a quick, _‘Hey, what’s your email address?’_ and then he added, _‘For the pictures,’_ but that sounded a bit presumptuous so he added, _‘If you still want them, of course,’_ and then he bit his lip and put his phone down and waited.

He waited and Eric didn’t reply, and he tried not to read too much into it.

It was still relatively early on a Monday morning and there were a lot of reasons why Eric wasn’t responding right away, and most of those reasons didn’t involve him suddenly hating Jack and wanting nothing to do with him. Most of those reasons were perfectly rational, and that’s what Jack told himself as he went on with his day.

During their bi-weekly team meeting at 10, he told himself that Eric was probably still sleeping and, afterwards, he told himself that maybe Eric was at a practice or working out or something and, around lunch time, he told himself to calm down because everything was fine, and then he left his phone at his desk and ate in the breakroom with everybody else, welcoming the distractions that came along with listening to their conversations.

Ransom was passing around pictures of his niece and Holster was telling anybody who would listen about how, _‘she likes me better, I swear,’_ and Shitty and Nursey were talking about a high school reunion that they were both skipping, and Dex and Chowder and Lardo were talking about who they thought was going to win Survivor, Jack just let it all wash over him. He looked at the pictures Ransom handed him and he admitted to Chowder that he’d never actually watched Survivor and he listened as his friends belligerently planned to remedy that and, after lunch, he headed back to his desk with a relatively clear head, armed with a mug of decaf coffee and more information about Jeff Probst than he’d ever wanted to know.

His phone was sitting on his desk, staring at him when he got back, and Jack was in the process of staring back at it with narrowed eyes, when it lit up with a text from Eric and he scrambled to open it.

Something close to disappointment hit Jack when the message just contained Eric’s email, but he’d barely had a chance to process that when another text came in reading, _‘And of course I still want to see them!’_ followed by, ‘ _And sorry for the late reply- I’ve been on the ice all morning so my phone’s been locked in the change room,’_ and Jack let out a half-sigh, half-laugh in relief.

Holsters’ desk was the closest to Jack’s, with them facing each other with a few feet of space in between, and the laugh got Jack a raised eyebrow from Holster, so Jack said, “It’s nothing,” quickly, and tried to stop smiling at his phone. He was only partly successful, but Holster shrugged and turned back to his computer, so it was fine.

Jack replied to the text saying, _‘No worries,’_ and then he opened the email he’d already composed and typed Eric’s address into it. After he pressed send, he sent another text saying, _‘I just sent the pictures,’_ and then he put his phone down, because he assumed Eric would want to look at the pictures, and that it’d be a while before he got any feedback.

As it turned out, Jack was wrong.

Eric sent him a, _‘Thank you!!!’_ right away, and less than a minute later, Jack got another text reading, _‘Oh my god these are fantastic!!’_ and then, _‘Jack!!’_ and then, _‘They’re beautiful!!’_ and the messages that followed all included similar amounts of praise and exclamation marks, and Jack kind of felt like his heart was going to explode.

Of course, in the end, Jack only replied with, _‘Haha thanks,’_ and then, _‘I’m glad you like them,’_ because it was all that came to mind, and he was trying to think of something else to say to keep the conversation going, when Eric did that for him.

He said, _‘Of course I like them, they’re wonderful,’_ and then another message came in and this one almost made Jack’s heart stop, because it read, _‘And I’d love to thank you in person- can I buy you coffee some time?’_ and that was a lot, but it the best way possible.

Jack kind of wanted to reply and outright ask if this was a date, and he kind of wanted to just say yes to anything and everything that Eric ever suggested, and he kind of wanted to give his phone to Nursey or Lardo or Shitty and make one of them come up with a reply, and he kind of wanted to disappear on the spot but, in the end, he just replied with, _‘Yeah, that would be great,’_ and let it be.

He let it be and he reminded himself to breathe and he told himself that there was a pretty solid chance that Eric was just being nice and he made plans to meet Eric for coffee the next day, and if he spent the rest of the day smiling a bit more than usual, than it was fine.

 

//

 

Unless somebody was covering a formal event, the Samwell Press had a strictly casual dress code, and it was enforced in the most lax way possible. It was a jeans and t-shirt environment that occasionally turned into a jeans and sweatshirt environment, and Jack usually played his part in keeping it casual by wearing jeans and plaid shirts, but he wanted to look a little bit better than casual when he met Eric for coffee so, in the end, Jack wore a dark pair of jeans and a soft blue sweater to work on Wednesday.

The sweater had been a gift from his mom and apparently it brought out his eyes and the jeans weren’t anything special at all and, altogether, the look was definitely still on the casual side of things but, when he ran into Shitty in the break room, Shitty whistled.

“Who’s heart are you breaking this morning, bro?” he asked, and Jack flushed.

He flushed and he furrowed his brow and he said, “Excuse me?” while he focused on his coffee, and Shitty scoffed.

“You look a thousand times dreamier than usual, and the last time you wore that sweater you were going on a date with Camilla after work,” he said, like it made all the sense in the world, and Jack stopped feeling embarrassed and started feeling amused.

He looked at Shitty and he tilted his head a tiny bit and asked, “Shits, why do you know that?” and Shitty rolled his eyes.

“You’re my bro, bro. I know things,” he said, and then he looked Jack up and down and narrowed his eyes and said, “Does this have anything to do with a certain figure skater?” and Jack froze.

He opened his mouth but nothing came out so he closed it, and he tried again but just ended up repeating the process, so he focused on stirring his coffee and he pretended that it was the most important thing in the world. After a moment, he heard Shitty sigh and then move closer, and when Shitty gently kicked his shin, Jack sighed and looked up.

Shitty was smiling gently as he said, “We don’t have to talk about it,” and then he added, “But I’m happy for you, bro,” and Jack smiled back.

He also said, “We’re uh- meeting for lunch,” and when Shitty’s eyes widened in excitement, he quickly added, “But, uh- I don’t know if it’s like- a thing, so, you know,” and he finished with an awkward cough that just about summed up how he felt; nervous and uncertain.

Shitty, of course, probably hadn’t felt either of those things in his entire life, and he just clapped Jack on the back and said, “Whatever it is, it’ll be brilliant, you glorious motherfucker,” and Jack had to laugh despite himself.

He laughed and he tried his best to channel Shitty’s confidence, as he headed back to his desk and got started on his work. There was an elementary school concert he was going to photograph in the evening and a college fundraiser the next day and his workload was definitely going to pick up on Friday but, at the moment, there wasn’t much for Jack to do and, by the time lunch rolled around, he was practically bouncing in his seat with nervous energy.

He was meeting Eric at a coffee shop across the street at noon, so he ducked out of the office a few minutes early and, when he got to the coffee shop, he was surprised to see that Eric was already there, with his face buried in his phone and two mugs in front of him.

For half a second, Jack considered running. He considered turning around and leaving and texting Eric an apology and then throwing away his phone and never talking to anybody ever again, but then the moment passed and Eric looked up and, when he saw Jack, his entire face lit up. He smiled and it went all the way to his eyes, and he lifted a hand to wave enthusiastically and he put his phone down without a second glance and, yeah.

Jack was a goner.

Still, he squared his shoulders and took a deep breath and he headed for the table and, when he got there, he did his best to smile as he said, “Hey,” and then fumbled with his chair a tiny bit, before he sat down and found Eric smiling back at him.

“Hey,” he said, happy and warm and enough to take Jack’s breathe away, even as he pushed a mug towards Jack and said, “I hope you don’t mind, I just got you my favourite,” with a smile that turned sheepish as Jack looked down and raised his eyebrows.

The drink was covered in foam with cinnamon sprinkled on top, all of which was a stark contrast to the coffee with a drop of milk that Jack normally drank. He asked, “What is it?” not entirely displeased, and Eric’s smile turned even more sheepish.

“A pumpkin spice latte?” Eric said, and Jack barely held back an amused snort, even as a smile grew on his face.

“It’s the middle of May, Bittle,” he said, even as he wrapped his hands around the warm mug and smiled down at it, more amused than anything.

“It’s delicious, is what it is, Mr. Zimmermann,” Eric said, and Jack flushed a tiny bit at being called that in person, so he took a sip of the drink to hide it, and he wasn’t at all surprised to find that Eric had been right.

The drink was warm and smooth and it tasted like autumn, and it was a little bit too sweet for Jack’s taste but he didn’t say anything about that. Instead, he licked his lips to make sure there wasn’t any foam left over, and then he smiled and looked away and said, “Okay, you might have been right,” and, when he looked back at Eric, he was ridiculously taken by the pride written on his face.

Still, all Eric actually said was, “I told you so,” and it was enough to get another small laugh out of Jack, before Eric took a sip of his own drink and asked, “So how’s your day going?” as if they normally met up for lunch and talked about these things, and Jack couldn’t help but think about how much he would like that.

Of course, he pulled himself away from those thoughts as soon as they hit them, and he cleared his throat. “It’s been good,” he said, and he wasn’t really used to telling people about his days because all of his friends worked with him so they already knew, and he had to rack his brain for something else to say. In the end, Jack ended up rambling on about the fundraiser he’d be attending the next day, and Eric just sat and listened and somehow managed to look interested, even as Jack was boring himself.

Jack rambled when he was nervous and, at the moment, he was more nervous than ever, but Eric seemed to take the entire thing in stride. He nodded and smiled and asked the right questions at the right time, and he was funny and nice and perfect, and Jack was pretty sure he’d messed the entire thing up.

He was pretty sure that Eric was just being nice, and he was pretty sure that he’d never want to see him again, and he was pretty sure that he was just never going to go on a date ever again to save himself the stress and embarrassment but then, as they were leaving, Eric said, “I’d love to do this again some time,” and Jack froze.

He froze and he blinked and he said, “I- yeah?” sounding a lot more surprised than he meant to, and Eric’s smile dimmed a tiny bit.

“Of course, if you don’t want to-”

“No, I want to,” Jack interrupted, and when Bitty’s look turned from confused to surprised he cleared his throat and said, “I uh- just wasn’t sure that you wanted to. I’m kind of- not the best conversationalist in the world,” and Eric let out a huff that sounded close to a laugh.

“I think you’re a fine conversationalist, Mr. Zimmermann,” he said, and they were stopped just outside of Jack’s building at that point, facing each other and standing a bit closer than necessary, so Jack just watched a hopeful smile spread over Eric’s face as he said, “We could grab dinner on Friday?”

“I- that would be great,” Jack said, smiling down at Eric, who just nodded and took a step back.

“Perfect,” he said, his eyes tracing over Jack’s face a final time before he said, “I’ll text you,” and Jack nodded so Eric nodded back, and then he spun on his heel and walked away, leaving Jack to try and figure out whether or not he’d just been asked on a date.

**Author's Note:**

> if you liked this, let me know what you think?


End file.
